


Congratulations, I'm having visions of us

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Feelings Realization, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Texting, scott really did send it, selfie - Freeform, spank bank material
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:59:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing that stopped Derek from sending it flying across the room were the multiple exclamation marks in the messages on his screen from Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Congratulations, I'm having visions of us

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of Merry Month of Masturbation.
> 
> The pic that gets sent is this one: http://i.imgur.com/HulQstq.jpg found and posted by a kind soul on tumblr.

Derek's phone chirped, announcing a text message, while he was reading but ignored it. If it was important whoever it was would call.

Thirty seconds later his phone chirped again. 

Then again.

And again.

Ad nauseum.

The only thing that stopped Derek from sending it flying across the room were the multiple exclamation marks in the messages on his screen from Stiles.

He put his book down and unlocked his phone quickly, pulling up his messages. He scrolled up and saw—

"Stiles?" Derek said aloud. Derek's eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth was open and his cock was twitching in his pants.

The picture _came_ from Stiles but there wasn't a face in it so it was hard to tell. But that certainly looked like Stiles' mole-dotted torso (that Derek shouldn't even technically know what it looks like but using roofs and bedroom windows as entry points sometimes offered him more info than he'd usually be privy to). That was Stiles' flat stomach and abdomen that was close to becoming indecent in the photo thanks to how low-slung the red pants were. And those were _definitely_ Stiles'. 

Derek would bet (to himself in his own head) that he could tell Stiles by his feet in the photo which led to Derek wondering how much attention he was obviously paying to the kid without realizing.

But he wasn't a kid anymore. He wasn't even a teenager anymore, recalling the flush on Stiles' cheeks at his 21st birthday, after a few rum and cokes during a low-key party here at the loft. 

Derek's cock certainly remembered the red stain on his cheeks and how puffy his lips were after doing a few tequila shots. He jerked off for a solid week on the memory of that look alone. 

And now Derek had something new for his spank bank, as Scott eloquently called it. This was going to be worth more than a week for sure.

Derek stopped trying to fight his attraction to Stiles a while ago. A year? Two? More. Maybe the day the kid walked into his life in the preserve. Maybe when he was going to cut Derek's arm off. Who knows. 

He reached under the band of his track pants and lazily started stroking his cock, wanting to enjoy this one as his eyes traced the planes of Stiles' body. Circled around his nipple, wondered how quickly it would harden under his mouth. Or how much reaction he could get out of Stiles if he tugged on it with his teeth or flicked it just enough to send a jolt through his body. 

He wanted to count the number of moles on Stiles' body with his tongue, trace the lines between them and figure out what constellations they made. Finally find the ones that were always hidden by layers of clothes, even though Stiles was now of an age to transition to a more adult wardrobe. But no, he had to cling to those damn t—shirts and plaid. 

He was more defined than Derek remembered, even from his last peek through the window a few months earlier. He had abs now, ones that Derek wanted to trade with his fingers and tongue and maybe a feather or paint with something he could eat off Stiles after. 

But who knows if he'd even be able to get that far, what with Stiles' cock being _right there_ and Derek wasn't sure if he was staring at the photo too closely or imagining things but it looked like Stiles was getting hard himself. As if showing off for the camera. 

What made Derek growl, though, and close his hand tightly around the base of his cock so he could enjoy this longer, was the hollow at Stiles' throat that looked as if it were created for Derek to nose into, to lick out and bite lightly at the tendons there.   
 Except for a few times during brief hugs or general pats of encouragement Derek never touched Stiles' neck. Partly because the opportunity never presented itself but also because the last thing Derek wanted was to allow himself something he knew would never come to pass. He was never going to get to bury his face in Stiles' neck, scent him there and calm his wolf that was constantly scratching at Derek to _do something_. 

He was making it more difficult on himself just by allowing this moment of weakness and getting off on the photo but dammit, he didn't care and neither did his cock.

Derek pulled his eyes away from the photo for a second, then remembered there was a series of messages. He kept stroking lazily, letting his precome drip down his shaft to smooth the drag, and scrolled down. 

_OMG_

_DERK!_

_Disrregrd that msg!_

_did NOT mean 2 send!!!!!!_

_Scot fuking w my phone_

_SRY_

Derek felt like he was being jabbed with a big fucking knife over and over as he read the messages that came in quick succession after each other. He could feel his cheeks burning, but not from arousal. He closed the message window with Stiles and deleted the whole damn thing, a thread he'd kept going for the past couple years. Since Stiles made him get the new phone. 

If Stiles didn't want him to have the picture, he wouldn't.

Derek took his hand out of his pants, cock going somewhat soft thanks to the digital slap in the face, and he pushed off his bed to angrily search the kitchen for something to eat. He found an orange and snarled at it, grew claws on one hand and started ripping at the rind and throwing it in the sink angrily.

He was up to his elbow in juices from the orange from being a little too enthusiastic with the shredding when the loft door opened with such force that it rolled to the end of its track and slammed back.

Stiles tumbled through the door, out of breath and cheeks flushed.

" _Did you get my texts?_ " he gasped out.

Derek stared at him, orange juice dripping to the floor and a half-mushed orange in his hand.

"Derek!" Stiles yelled.

"Yes, I got your texts," Derek replied coolly, then threw the whole mess in the sink and washed his arms off. 

"You didn't reply!"

"Don't worry, I deleted my messages with you, you're safe. The wrong person doesn't have the picture anymore," Derek replied, stalking back to his bed and waving his phone at Stiles. 

Stiles who looked confused. "Are you mad at me?"

"No!" Derek snapped, then took a deep breath. "Sorry. No, I'm not mad at you, Stiles. Pissed at myself, is all."

"Why?" Stiles asked slowly, stepping closer to Derek.

Derek shrugged. "Just being stupid and thinking things were different than they are."

Stiles licked his lips and paused before stepping closer still and said, "Maybe that's something I could help you with."

Derek looked at Stiles, surprised at how near he was. "I doubt it," he replied slowly.

Stiles looked hesitant as he said, "The wrong person didn't get the picture."

Derek blinked.

"Just the _right_ person wasn't supposed to get it."

"Why?"

Stiles ducked his head and shrugged. "Cause he'd likely laugh me right out of his place."

"No one's laughing, Stiles," Derek replied.

"Not even a little?" Stiles challenged, disbelieving.

"The very opposite of laughing," Derek said with a gestured wave to his groin while his cheeks reddened again.

Stiles' eyes widened. "Holy shit, serious?"

"Things were going well until the panicked messages that I wasn't supposed to see what you sent," Derek replied ruefully. 

Stiles closed the slight gap between them and stepped up, chest to chest with Derek. "Maybe we could get things back on track?"

"One condition."

 "Anything," Stiles said fervently. 

"You resend me that picture."


End file.
